"What'd you find out?" Spot snapped at the tall boy standing in front of him. Without flinching, Dragon just stared back at him for a moment before replying.

"Nothing." The response was curt as Dragon crossed his arms, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"What the fuck does that mean, nothing?"

"Just what it says. We did not find anything. Reuben's been all over the damn city trying to find something." Dragon's tone was even but his irritation was shown in his features. "And when you can't find anything on someone it means they have everything to hide."

"She's just a girl, it can't be that bad." Spot's voice was more relaxed, now, as he shrugged. "You're paranoid."

"Just a girl?" Dragon scoffed. "God, you're thick!" He stepped back to avoid the fist coming his way and shook his head. "Don't you remember what she told you when you met her?" He allowed Spot several moments of thought before rolling his eyes. "The Rebellion, you twit!" This time he wasn't so lucky and got caught by Spot's cane. "Fuck!"

"Watch your mouth next time," Spot growled, using his cane to poke his top informant in the chest.

"When you get over your snit – CHRIST, Spot! – will you at least listen?" Dragon scowled, rubbing his shoulder that had just suffered for his words. Despite the physical abuse, his mouth twitched with a smirk.

"Look harder if you're so suspicious, will you?" Spot sheathed his cane through a belt loop, clearly willing to pull it out again if deemed necessary by Dragon's unwieldy and disrespecting mouth.

"Oh yes, look harder he says," he stated somewhat mockingly. "That's rich, coming from someone who doesn't have to look for a single damn thing."

"Is that not," Spot responded, through clenched teeth, "the precise reason I have you?"

"Is it really?" Dragon responded, with faux shock, if he had never been told the reason before. "Then wouldn't you think I had checked everywhere before coming to tell you that we've turned over nothing? Why wouldn't I try as hard as I could before having to do that? If you think I'm not doing everything I can—"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" Spot stood there scowling him, both of them glaring at each other with contempt. "Drag, just because you've been my friend for a long time doesn't mean…"

"Oh, I know," Dragon muttered, still looking at him through narrowed eyes. "Just because you've known me for so long doesn't mean you get to order me around like some bleeding idiot that can't tell Brooklyn from fucking Ohio. You told me to do my job, I did it. I did it as best I could and just because we couldn't turn up a damn thing on this broad doesn't mean we didn't try our best. I'll keep my eyes and ears open but I can't promise anything. I still say I don't trust her."

"Just keep your mouth shut around everyone, understand?" Dragon shrugged and Spot gave him a pointed look.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, holding up his hands in defeat. "I'll keep my trap shut and you'll stop treating me like I know nothing." He shook his head with a sigh, and then a smirk once again tugged at his lips. "It's a shame you have to pretend like you're such an asshole, though." He ducked as he ran out of the room, narrowly avoiding yet another blow to his body and ego from Spot's cane as he went.

"I'm sick of those damn newsies thinking they own this city, our city!" Cage roared, speaking to his troops like a minister spoke to his congregation at a revival. He could see all their eyes locked on him, listening to every word he was saying. The Rebellion was always ready to hear Cage rant and rave about taking down the street rats they all despised. "The Manhattan newsies are weak, we already have their fear. To get the entire city to listen, to pay notice, we need something bigger."

Surveying the group in front of him, he fell silent. He fully expected one of the people staring back at him to volunteer the idea running through his mind. Sure enough, he heard a throat clear. "Brooklyn."

Now, instead of looking at Cage, everyone in the room was looking at Cards. No one had noticed him listening as he had been clearly attached to Cats, per usual. A twisted smile slowly spread over Cage's face as he nodded at Cards.

"Brooklyn," he repeated, pointing at Cards. "Brooklyn is what we need to take to show this asshole street scum we mean business. Manhattan is nothing compared to Brooklyn. If we take it, no one will question us." He could hear muttering scattered throughout the room as he stopped talking again.

"There's a problem in Brooklyn," Tanya spoke up, looking up through her straight dark hair at Cage. "A certain pack of dogs."

It had been a week since she had arrived in the house before Emmaline took any information to the leader of Brooklyn. Somehow, Dorjan was supplying her with information to take to him, though she knew better than to ask how he was getting it. While he normally played the spy and did his own dirty work, there was no way he was able to sneak about in Manhattan near the Rebellion; a dark time in his past kept that from being possible.

"They're planning something for in about two or three weeks," she stated quietly, in Spot's room after everyone else in the house had gone to bed. "They didn't tell me any details yet, but I know we have a little time to get something together."

"A few weeks," Spot repeated, frowning as he thought it over. "We need to know where and when. Those are the most important. After that comes I need to know how many and what to expect." She nodded and turned to go. "Good work, Emma." Since it was coming from him, she knew he meant it.

"I have to go back tonight," she said suddenly, remembering quickly that there was a meeting at the house. She looked back at him as if seeking permission. He stared at her for a long moment, and then nodded. Without another word, she hurried downstairs and out of the house, taking shortcuts right and left to get to the house quickly. The shortcuts, conveniently, made the hardest path to follow if one did not know where they were going. She hated going back and forth to the house, knowing that at any time someone could be following her. The darkness of the night was her safeguard and she took full advantage of it.

Once more, she leapt down the staircase hidden in the shadows. She knocked on it once. "Öffnen sie die tür." A few seconds and several locks clicking open later, she was inside.

"Cutting it awfully close, Emma." Standing there, the doorman for the evening, with a smirk spread across his face was Hades. He tossed his dark, scraggly hair out of his eyes as he pointed down the hall. "They're waiting for you." With a murmur of thanks, she made her was down the hall and into a small dining room, sliding into an empty seat at the table.

There were not many members of the House of the Howling Coyotes. They kept themselves to an exclusive few, a handful, due to the nature of their business. If anyone was missing from the gathering, they were not mentioned, for if they were out on business it was better not to ask.

Dorjan, the leader of their entourage, was seated at the head of the table. His hardened expression had taken years to perfect to the point where he was just intimidating to see. He ruled with an iron fist and fought with it, too. While everyone at the table knew they had their moments of fun with him, they also knew better than to provoke him too much or when he was already in a bad mood. When he glanced around the table, everyone's eyes turned to him.

"The coyote," he began, "is a great symbol." To everyone's exasperation, he began every meeting with the same story. They all knew it by heart and could say it along with him, but still he demanded to do it every single time. The group seated around the table exchanged looks of desperation as he continued. "It is the symbol of a trickster. It is mischievous and evasive. It is thought, by some, to be what brought death into this world." Here he paused, as he always did, and Celia looked over at Emmaline, rolling her eyes. "You are to be the coyote."

Celia was one of the only other girls in the Coyotes, and a good friend to Emmaline. They had been brought in around the same time and while they had moved up in the House at different speeds, their friendship had remained intact. Celia tossed her impeccable dark, curly hair over her shoulder and looked back to Dorjan, who was preparing to speak again.

"We're going after the Rebellion." Everyone in the room but Emmaline sat up straighter in their chairs, staring at him in disbelief.

"You're joking," Ace muttered, shaking his head.

"No, I'm not joking." Dorjan looked irritated at their lack of enthusiasm.

"You are aware they have a few more people on their side than we do, right Dor?" Aurora, who had been sitting quietly at the other end of the table, was now leaning in and looking down at him.

"No, Aurora, I forgot to count," Dorjan snapped, scowling down at her. Her eyes narrowed, like hazel slits against her fair skin. "You think I wouldn't take that into account?" Emmaline smirked, watching him get flustered. He had expected them to be excited at this prospect but had clearly overestimated his news.

"I think she meant," interceded Celia, "was how are we going to make up for the fact that they have so many more people than us? Picking them off one by one can't be the answer, or we would've done that long ago."

"We did do that for a while," Emmaline offered. "Remember? Not that long ago, either. It didn't work that well, since they knew who to blame."

"Stop gabbing and I'll tell you!" roared Dorjan, pounding his fist into the table as he stood up. "God, all of you can't shut up for two minutes put together! This is important and you're making small talk through it all!" Silence fell around the table as they all looked at him once more, much more somber than before. He glared at all of them before he continued. "We're getting more of Brooklyn on our side. Not that they know it, they're just pawns. They're useful pawns, though."

"You're being cryptic," muttered Celia, but pursed her lips as he turned his gaze onto her.

"We're getting the Brooklyn newsies on our side." He glanced at Emmaline briefly before continuing. "We need numbers and they're good fighters. Best of all, they hate the Rebellion almost as much as we do. They don't know a thing about us; they just know they're getting inside information." He looked around the table, as if daring any one of them to say something against this idea, but his plan seemed to have settled most of the doubts they had been holding. "I'll keep you updated."

Taking it as a sign the meeting was over, as Dorjan sat back down, everyone else around the table slowly got to their feet and left the cramped room. Hades surveyed them from down the hall but didn't say anything. They dispersed to the various rooms in the house except for Emmaline. She went to a small cupboard in the hallway and pulled out a bottle and some glasses. Wandering back into the dining room, she found Dorjan just as she had left him. He glanced at her as she came in and motioned her over after she had shut the door.

"How's it looking?" He took the glasses from her and set them on the table, watching her as she poured into them.

"Everything seems alright." She slid into the chair next to him and picked up one of the glasses. "No one's getting suspicious and they seem riled up." He smirked, taking a long drink from his glass. "I might kill some of them, though."

"Now, Emma, that's not the job I put you on," he grinned. "Maybe afterwards, though, if you feel really passionate about it. I can't exactly stop you from killing people."

"You usually encourage it." She drained her glass and raised the bottle to pour them both some more. Watching him finish off what she had just poured, she took in a deep breath. "Dor, how are you getting this information about the Rebellion? I mean, I can wager a guess, but…"

"You don't need to know that, Emma," he said, shaking his head. "You know better than to ask." She frowned but did not push the matter. There had been more than one person missing at the meeting, so she could not figure it out from that alone. "You need to get back, though right?"

"I told him I had to go back to the Rebellion tonight, so not really, I guess," she mused as she raised her glass to her lips. She kept her eyes on him as she finished it off and set it back down. "Do you want me to go back?"

"Naw, you should stay here," he said, glancing at the shut door for a moment. "It's too quiet."

"You saying I'm loud?"

"So what if I am?" he replied gruffly, but not without a smirk. "You are." She punched his arm lightly and he laughed. After a long, shared silence he sighed. "We can't lose you, Emma, alright? I gave this to you because I knew you could handle it and I trusted you with it, but it's not stable. They can't find out about you – probably not even after it's finished. Who knows what could happen."

"I get it, Dorjan," she murmured, looking away from him. "I get that it's a big deal and I have to be careful. Don't worry so much, I know what I'm doing."

"That's probably what worries me the most."

Emmaline stayed away from the house for a while, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that she kept disappearing and not leaving the borough. She knew there was constant patrolling of the borders and it would not go unnoticed that she was never actually going to Manhattan. Dorjan had told her he would keep her busy but so far he hadn't followed through on his promise. Starting to lose hope with him, she resigned to going back to the lodging house for the evening, heading straight for the bunkroom.

"Someone was looking for you." Emmaline stopped, her foot on the bottom step. She hadn't noticed anyone in the lobby when she entered but now that she looked harder she saw Dragon sitting behind the desk, his feet propped up on it. "Left something for you."

"What?" She slowly walked toward him, a pit forming in her stomach. They should know better than to come here, why would they risk it?

"Tall bloke." Dragon lowered his long legs and stood. "Seemed upset you weren't here."

"What did he leave?"

"We don't want people from the Rebellion here," he continued, as if he hasn't heard her. "Especially since they shouldn't know you're here."

"He wasn't from the Rebellion, there's no way they could know," Emmaline snapped, holding her hand out in front of her. "What did they leave?"

"Just a letter." He held it out to her and she felt herself start to breathe easier. She could see it had been opened but that didn't matter; all the correspondence that came from Dorjan was in German anyway. As she reached for it, he pulled it out of her reach. "I didn't know you were German."

"Apparently there are a lot of things you don't know." Emmaline could see her words had hit him hard; this was, after all, someone who prided himself of knowing everything about everyone. She leaned forward and snatched the letter from his hand while he was still brooding over her comment, the anger spreading across his features quickly. "Thank you." Her tone was sarcastic and flat as she thanked him and turned, going upstairs.

Unfolding the letter when she got to the bunkroom, her eyes flitted to the bottom first. The lines at the bottom of the page, where a signature would normally be, told her hat her suspicions were correct. She scanned over it in its entirety, frowning at the briefness of it. It made sense that it lacked detail; they knew there were other people in the city who could read German – they weren't stupid. She just wanted it to say more than a time, a place, and the nature of the meeting. It closed with the familiar 'immer treu' and ended abruptly.

Twisting her hair up into a bun, she went outside and pulled a box of matches from her pocket. She struck a match against the wall and set fire to the letter, letting it float to the ground and watching it burn. She heard a soft whistle behind her.

"So you're the tall bloke," she mused softly, turning to look down the she shadows of the street. "I should've known."

"He says you're late." Ace spoke quietly as he stepped out of the shadows.

"Of course I'm late, I just got it." She scowled down at the ash on the ground, formerly a letter. "How was I supposed to be on time if I didn't know about it until afterwards?" She sighed as he motioned for her to walk along with him.

They had only walked a few blocks when Ace muttered, "that was quick." She looked over at him and he jerked his head backwards. They were being followed.

Walking in the darkness of the streets they barely spoke to each other. She should have guessed that Dragon would have her followed, especially after how she had acted with him. Approaching their destination, he spoke to her in a distinct German murmur. "In the backroom."

Nodding, she walked into the pub. Ace continued down the street as if he didn't even notice her absence. She glanced around the pub briefly before walking toward the back wall – toward a door. The doorman looked as if he wanted to stop her but he didn't. He had his orders, she knew, and he wouldn't want to go against Dorjan.

"Job for you." She had barely shut the door before Dorjan started. Raising an eyebrow, she sat across from him. "Shouldn't take that long."

"I hope not," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Kind of busy these days."

"Aren't we all," he responded dryly. "Don't start, Emma, you know I wouldn't ask if I didn't need you." When she nodded, he continued. "Astoria – Hoyt. Look above the candy shop, there's a gentleman there I think you'll like."

"Astoria, hm?" she mused, rising from her chair. "Sounds like a nice day trip." She nodded to him, turning to leave.

"I don't want you going anywhere unarmed."

"Come on, Dor," she scowled, facing him again. "It's not suspicious to be carrying a gun or anything…"

"Don't let them see it," he retorted, ignoring her look of contempt. "That's an order, Emmaline. And get that job done tomorrow."

"Bossy," she muttered, but nodded once again before heading out the door. All she could hope was for no one to follow her to Astoria. One misstep with this job and the entire plan was gone.